


Don't Be So Serious

by Pinkwebby



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cussing, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gavin Reed Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mild Blood, Non-Graphic Violence, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Soft Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:08:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25344460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkwebby/pseuds/Pinkwebby
Summary: Sometimes things we see everyday can dredge up bad memories from the past. And Gavin is no exception.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 7
Kudos: 173





	Don't Be So Serious

**Author's Note:**

> Title is based off a song I've been listening too! Go and give it a listen! [Don't be so serious, by: Low Roar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQe36x3p6VU)
> 
> Also thank you to MechanicalBones for once again beta'ing for me, I cry every time you help me. [MechanicalBones' tumblr](https://mechabones.tumblr.com/)

This was great, this was fucking perfect… This was a mess. Fuck, this was all his fault. What the fuck. Gavin wiped his lips on his sweatshirt sleeve and he didn’t give a single fuck if he left behind residue from getting sick all over the alley.

The bitter taste of bile blew absolute dick, and he hated it. Hated the taste of his earlier lunch coming back up, hated what made him feel this way, hated himself. Everything just… came crashing down and, well, what now?

What fucking now?

Gavin shouldn’t have gotten sick, he was stronger than that.

_Better_ than that.

He wasn’t the same person he used to be; he wasn’t afraid. He had never been afraid. Not of anything.

Not of _him_.

And certainly not at what he saw inside.

He shook out his numb hands and reached into his inside pocket to grab his carton of cigarettes. With trembling hands, he pulled one out and patted himself down in search of his lighter.

After a few moments, he swore and swallowed hard. No lighter, no cigarette, no fucking comfort.

It was just his lucky fucking day.

“Detective Reed, are you alright?” Came a familiar voice that made him groan. Gavin threw his now-soggy cigarette into the gutter and shoved his shaking hands into his jeans pocket. He couldn’t let the tin-can see it. He didn’t need the thing to hold something over his head. He had already seen enough.

“I’m fucking fine, Plastic Bitch,” he appeared out of the alley and stood in front of Nines with his chin up, “told you not to follow me.”

“I am a deviant, you are no longer my master,” it was an attempt at a joke, but it fell flat on Gavin. Especially when the numbness of his hands had moved to encompass his entire being.

“Why don’t you shove it, Nines? If you couldn’t fuckin’ tell, I’m not in the mood,” he hissed out before he shoved past him with a shoulder check. The android didn’t even fucking flinch or stumble back. Just made Gavin’s shoulder sore. Fucking androids.

“Would you like to-”

“Don’t you dare even finish that sentence. You finish that sentence and I’m bashing your head in like an empty can,” Gavin snarled out as he hunched his shoulders forward. Nothing could help, nothing would break the oncoming panic.

He needed to get home.

He needed his fucking lighter. As soon as he got home, he could take a nice long smoke on his balcony and then wait out the oncoming storm until it was gone.

He was barely holding together as it was, and he knew Nines could see it. His last shreds of sanity going down the toilet. The fucking bastard was probably smug that he got to see Gavin like that.

“I’ve never seen you react that way to a crime scene before, Detective. There must be something on your mind,” Nines continued his train of thought nonetheless, and Gavin’s head felt like it was going to explode.

He gritted his teeth and shot a deadly glare at Nines, “I said I’m fucking fine. Now, why don’t you be a good little machine and go back to the station?”

“I should escort you home.”

_Running out of time. Please stop._

“You shouldn’t drive in this condition.”

_Stop talking._

“I only want to hel-”

“Well, I don’t need your help! I don’t need anything from you, because you’re just a piece of fucking plastic. You aren’t real and you don’t understand how I feel right now!”

The way Nines stared at him only added onto the weight residing on his chest. Gavin could feel his breathing shift, he was going to hyperventilate soon and then he wouldn’t be able to stop.

Not here, not now.

_Need to leave. Right now._

“Just get the fuck away from me,” he muttered out before he made his relieving escape. Nines couldn’t know.

He made a mad dash for his car, throwing himself into the driver’s seat and revving the engine with little regard for the older vehicle. He slammed on the gas and peeled away from that crime scene as quickly as he could.

He couldn’t see straight; his vision blurred with the oncoming storm that was his mind. He could see flashes of the crime scene mingled with his own memories.

And he fucking hated it.

_Bloody eyes. Sweaty clothes. Screaming, crying. It wasn’t his fault. The children need discipline. It’s my right as their father to do as I please. Quit crying boy, you want the fucking neighbors to hear you and take you away?_

Gavin shuddered and nearly ran a red light. The person across the road honked at him, but he couldn’t force himself to care like he usually would. He would flip them off and honk his horn right back. But he was too physically and mentally drained to the point of no return.

As he sat at the light, he gripped the steering wheel hard enough to leave imprints of his fingers in the faux leather. His vision blurred, and he wanted to cry, but no tears would come. And though his heart wanted him too, he refused to cry anywhere but his apartment. Not a single soul could see him fucking cry.

_He_ wasn’t here. He couldn’t hurt Gavin anymore. Gavin was a grown-ass adult now. The old man was long dead. In the ground, six feet under right where he fucking belonged. Fuck the old man and everything he stood for.

Why couldn’t he calm his goddamn breathing?

No matter how many hours of therapy he’d been subjected to, nothing would ever stop the dread and sheer panic he felt when in the face of shit like that. The terrible shit at that crime scene. It would never go away. He was 36 years old and yet… he would forever remember the cigarette burns on his forearms and his face smashed into the kitchen sink.

All the hours spent crying and hidden in his little nook within the basement. With his only comfort coming from himself because no one could know that he came from a shitty household. His mother would never forgive him for slandering his pop’s name.

Gavin realized belatedly that he missed his green light and had been sitting in the same position at this empty intersection for five minutes. He itched his forearm through his jacket.

God, he hated the numb feeling that plagued him before the wave of emotions inevitably hit. Gavin reared his hand back and slammed it against his steering wheel. So he could feel something.

He needed to feel _something_.

The dull sting did nothing to help as he sped away from the light.

When he arrived home, he staggered from his car and over to the doors to the apartments. It didn’t register that he was safely home until he was shedding his jacket and rushing to find a lighter like a mad-man.

“Fuck, where is it? Goddammit, where the fuck did I put it?!” He tore through his junk drawer in the kitchen. He winced as he sliced his finger across his mail opener. But it didn’t fucking matter. Not right now. And at the bottom was his old lighter. Beat-up and shiny with a silver case.

“God please work, don’t fucking crap out on me,” Gavin muttered desperately as he fumbled with his shitty, shaky hands to light the damn thing.

Gavin flicked it once, twice, three fucking times. Fucking nothing! How was he going to-

_C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, fucking light, you piece of shit._

He finally got it to light, but he burnt his finger in the process. With a curse, he dropped the lighter, and the thing smashed into the ground and immediately broke apart. The lighter fluid spilled out and it shattered all his hopes and dreams in one fell swoop.

Fuck! Fuck, fuck!

The world really hated him.

A hoarse cry left his mouth, his bleeding and burnt fingers turned into background noise as his only solace for the rest of the night was ripped away from him.

What was he going to do now?

The _fuck_ does he do now?!

Gavin stared down at the broken lighter blankly, scratching at his arm through his jacket fabric again. And his face just… scrunched up. This fucking world. So fucking cruel to him. It took and took and took and never once did it give him anything in return.

He knew what Nines would say. That he shouldn’t be codependent on such flimsy comforts like cigarettes. But now it was too late, and his earlier dread washed over him full-force. And it wouldn’t go away now. Not without his fucking cigarettes.

A ragged breath left his mouth, and he stepped over the mess to move into the living room. It didn’t use to be like this. He didn’t use to be like this. He wasn’t a fucking mental health patient. He had other comforts at one point.

The empty cat bed in the corner was a testament to that.

A sob slogged its way out of his throat. Gavin couldn’t do this. Every single time he was doing well with his mental mindset, his old man’s ghost appeared and punched him in the throat. Because apparently he wasn’t allowed to be okay. Not anymore.

And that bastard. Fucking pops. He had no right to wreak havoc in his life anymore. Gavin was glad he was fucking dead. He felt nothing for him, besides resentment. And the guy deserved it, even in the grave.

It felt like yesterday was a year ago. How he could go from great to shit in 12 hours must be a fucking record. He must give Nines and the rest of the precinct whip-lash. He felt like he was doing it to himself too.

Gavin sank down on the couch, his tears once again streaming down his face, and he couldn’t help but cry out loudly. Fuck what his neighbors thought if they could hear him. Fuck everything.

He deserved this, right? Felt like it. No matter what he did, who he tried to be, it’d always come back to this. Gavin fucking Reed, crying alone in his apartment.

And not a damn person cared.

He blindly reached out with his bloody fingers and tore his jacket sleeve up. He could see the marks, the circular ones that had faded with time. But they would always be there, and he would always carry a piece of his dad with him.

Something he wished he could get rid of every time he stared down at his arms. Without thinking about the consequences of his actions, he scratched them. Hard. Over and over. Because he didn’t want to see them ever again. He never wanted to think about his old man. And what he did.

As soon as he started drawing blood, he heard the door-bell ring. Fuck, it was probably fucking security telling him to pipe the fuck down because he was disturbing the peace in the complex. Yeah, well, he did that a lot. And he didn’t give a single fuck. About anyone. Not even about himself. But that much was clear already, wasn’t it?

He scratched harder and harder and wept just as loudly as before. That’s when the knocking became more incessant.

Usually, security wouldn’t wait around for him to answer the door, so it had to be something else.

Curiosity got the better of him.

Gavin carefully covered up the bloody scratches on his arm and got up on unsteady feet. He winced with every step, sniffling and wiping away the tears so he looked at least a little presentable.

He unlocked the door and looked through the peephole. A sharp gasp left his mouth, and he had half a mind to lock the door again. No, not Nines. He couldn’t be here. Not right now. He couldn’t see him like this. Fuck.

Without thinking, Gavin twisted the knob and opened the door partially to glare up at the android, “the fuck you doin’ here?”

Nines reached up into his jacket pocket and produced a very shiny, brand new lighter, “you dropped and broke your lighter at the crime scene when you ran. I thought I could buy you a new one as an apology for being invasive earlier.”

Oh, thank fuck. His saving fucking grace.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Give it here,” he snapped out, already seeing the light at the end of his tunnel. Nines lifted it above his head, high where Gavin couldn’t reach it.

“You cannot take it and run, let me in,” he responded in a low voice. That damn voice sent a shiver down his spine and he fucking hated it.

“Fine, you fuckwad. Come in,” he gritted out as he opened the door. Nines’ eyes darted down to his wounded arm immediately, his piercing blue eyes narrowing. He pocketed the lighter and lunged towards Gavin with lightning-quick speed.

Fucking androids.

Gavin let out a yell and struggled futilely against the android as he slid his jacket sleeve up and revealed the puckered, bleeding scratches all over the inside of his arm. His icy cold eyes slowly trailed up Gavin to meet him in the eyes.

Much to Gavin’s surprise, those cool, blue eyes were filled with a mix of sympathy and shitty concern, and honestly? It was going to piss him off. As if he was being ridiculed by a fucking machine!

“Let fucking go of me, Nines. I’m warning you!” He breathed out in a barely restrained voice. His panic was escalating again. No one had ever caught him in his self-destructive tendencies, never been called out. But just like that, Nines shattered the illusions that had him thinking it could have stayed that way.

“You need to clean and disinfect the wounds immediately, Gavin. Your fingernails contain many germs from the crime scene,” he let Gavin go instantly and turned his head towards where the kitchen was located, “where is your first aid kit?”

Gavin stared up at him in shock, eyes wide, “I-in the cabinet below the kitchen sink.”

Nines disappeared into the kitchen, leaving a dumb-struck Gavin behind. He didn’t… ask why he hurt himself. He didn’t even question it or try to lecture him about it.

Just by that, his anger dissipated, his bottom lip trembling.

_Fucking androids._

When Nines came back to him, he gently grabbed his good wrist and led him into the living room. He sat him down on the couch and silently kneeled in front of him. He put the first-aid kit in Gavin’s lap and opened it to gather the correct materials.

“N-Nines,” he whispered, to which Nines glanced up at him to show him he was listening as he dabbed at the scratches with a cotton ball soaked with rubbing alcohol.

He let out a hiss of pain before he frowned deeply at the android, “why are you helping me? Don’tcha wanna know why I did this to myself?”

It was kind of a stupid question, especially considering he didn’t have to explain himself. But his curiosity about why Nines didn’t ask had him asking for himself instead.

Nines finished cleaning the wounds before he let out a sigh. His LED circled a soft yellow and Gavin watched him while chewing on his bottom lip. What was he thinking? Was he disappointed in him like every single therapist and boyfriend he’d ever had?

“I am helping you because I am worried about you. I care about you very much, Gavin. I want to know why you would mar yourself so, but I do not wish to pry into your private affairs.”

God, Nines had such a fucking elegant way of speaking and then he wasted it all on Gavin of all people. Words reserved for Gavin’s ears only, it seemed. Barely anyone else heard the RK900 speak.

“You sound like a fucking Shakespeare novel,” he whispered, voice thick.

Nines merely snorted in response and moved to grab bandages out of the kit. Gavin kept biting his bottom lip as he looked at Nines.

How he carefully wrapped his wounds up with the utmost care. Why? Why would he care about Gavin at all? No one cared about him. Not his family, not his co-workers, not his friends. Not a damn person. So why did this android who the DPD assigned as his partner care at all?

“But I-” he paused, “-I said all those fuckin’ awful things to you today. Most people would’ve told me to fuck myself and not give a shit about me anymore.”

Nines’ eyes darted up to meet his for a moment, eyebrows knitting together as glacier blue met stormy grey.

It was like a thunderstorm. Lightning crackled between them.

“I would not stop caring about you nor your well-being because of something you said out of hysteria for the current situation. You were not in your right mind, you were frightened. It is okay to be frightened. I know you would never say those things to me in our daily lives.”

“I wasn’t fucking frightened,” he said defensively, but he quickly deflated. He wanted to rub his arm, but with one hand occupied and injured, it was hard to do. “’M sorry, Nines. You don’t deserve to be treated like that… Yer way too nice to me for yer own good.”

Nines gave him a conflicted look as he taped down the gauze and bandage on Gavin’s arm, the frown on his face deep. “It is okay. I have already told you it will take more than that to get rid of me.” Nines’ lips crinkled into a smile and Gavin’s heart skipped a beat.

Gavin looked away for a moment, before he heaved a long sigh, “shit like what we saw at the crime scene? The woman with her head bashed in, and the little girl who was being abused by her dad? It fucking got to me.”

“Gavin, you do not have to-”

“No, I want to tell you. I should fuckin’ tell someone and I… trust you,” he swallowed the anxiety that built, focusing on his hands instead.

“My pops, he wasn’t the greatest man alive. He was very military-focused, authoritarian. Treated me and my brother like trainees for most of our lives at home. And he was a drunk. He did a lot of awful shit to me. I started scratching my arm cause I could see the cigarette burn scars he left on me. And I didn’t… want to be fuckin’ reminded. Of all the shit I’ve been through and can never escape.”

Did it feel any better talking about it? Fuck no. It made the numbness slowly grow into panic once again and he hated it. Hated himself. Hated who he was. Hated that after a million times of talking about it, he still doesn’t feel any better about it. And even though Nines was practically right on top of him, his warm hands on his knees soothing him, he felt a million miles away. That Gavin couldn’t reach out to him, that he was choking. Choking on the thousand different emotions he felt right now. And Gavin couldn’t escape.

A low sob slowly worked its way out of his throat, and his eyes scrunched up once again. He yanked his hand out from underneath his thigh where he had hidden it, and he knotted it in his hair. He pulled hard enough to rip out chunks as he started sobbing again.

Nines promptly grabbed a hold of his hand on his hair and gently unwound it from his hair. With the most tender touches, he intertwined their fingers and squeezed his hand, “hold it as hard as you like, Detective. I promise it won’t break.”

Gavin let out an ugly laugh through the pain and sniveling, “the fuck, dipshit? At least call me Gavin when you say that.”

“Alright, Gavin. I think I can do that,” Nines whispered before he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Gavin’s forehead. The gesture was so loving, so gentle, that it just broke down his walls. Whatever he was trying to withhold just came spilling out.

Gavin cried noisily, sobbing and clutching Nines’ hand hard enough that he swore he heard a crack. He wanted to hurt himself; he wanted to punish himself. But he grasped the android’s hand instead. His chassis was cool against his skin.

“You’re okay. Everything is fine, I’m here for you,” Nines whispered as he sat between Gavin’s legs, his free hand reaching out tentatively. There, but not touching without permission. Gavin didn’t even need to think about it, leaning forward instinctively so that hand was pressed against his cheek.

No one had ever been near him when he had an episode like this. Maybe a couple of boyfriends, but as soon as they saw it, they left. They didn’t want to deal with his trauma and his past. They packed bags and just went away. But Nines was still here. He didn’t run for the fucking hills. He sat down in front of him and listened patiently. And now… now he was comforting him like it was second nature.

He didn’t deserve this, and he wanted to tell him that. But his tongue felt like it was made of cotton as he sobbed.

“Take deep breaths, Gavin. You will make yourself sick at this rate,” Nines murmured, his hand sliding back to gently comb through Gavin’s hair softly. And his touch felt so good, it made him realize just how touch-starved he had felt over the past year or two.

Gavin tried to rein it in as he could feel his stomach-churning. Soon, he was just hiccuping weakly. He wiped at his eyes with his good hand and stared down at the bandages on his arm. He made a fucking mess. And yet… Nines was still here.

“How are you feeling?” Nines asked in the soothing tone he’d ever heard from him before. Gavin sniffled and turned his red eyes up to him.

“Better with you here,” he mumbled out, rubbing his eyes much like a child.

“Perhaps we should get you to bed?” Nines suggested, to which Gavin nodded his head. His bed sounded really fucking good right now. He was so exhausted he couldn’t even think straight anymore. It washed away all his thoughts in the presence of Nines. And he wished he could feel like this all the time.

Protected. _Loved_.

Without waiting for permission, Nines stood up and helped his partner up. He guided him towards the back bedroom, opening the door and moving him so Gavin was laying down on his bed. Everything was soft and warm, even Nines’ hands were that way too.

Gavin stretched out, smearing a hand over his face. The one good thing about break-downs like that was how exhausted they made you afterward. He felt like he could sleep a million years after that explosion.

“Here is your new lighter, detective,” Nines brought it out and set it on his nightstand. Gavin turned his head to stare at it with wide eyes, before back up to him. Nines raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. But he said nothing more, no the fucker turned to leave. And Gavin had a choice.

He could just let him go.

Or he could-

“Nines… Wait. Can you-” he groaned, rubbing at his forehead, “this is gonna sound really fucking clingy and pathetic. But can you stay here? With me.”

Nines turned around, and his smile was radiant. If Gavin could take a picture right now, he’d keep a photo of that smile in his wallet forever. Because it held so many emotions, so many promises. And for once, Gavin felt at ease.

He didn’t feel alone in this world.

“Of course, Gavin. I thought you would never ask.” Nines sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and reached out to curl a piece of his unruly hair behind his ear. Gavin leaned into the touch.

Nines didn’t waste any time laying beside Gavin, and he happily nestled into the android without complaint. He was too tired to complain. He didn’t want to complain. Because this was perfect. Nines leaned his head down and pressed a lingering kiss to Gavin’s forehead.

“You are my home, Gavin.”

“Yeah… You’re mine too, Nines.”

**Author's Note:**

> When I was about to post this, I wondered what would happen if Nines didn't show up and Captain Allen did instead...and I want to write that now too.


End file.
